The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1887-08-04
THE WALlED:lN ROOM.

THE WALlED.lN ROOM.
Being the Terrible Adventure Of an yIrish Na.
tsralist.
1opened my eyes and looked around
me: "A man was leaning over my bed;
near the man stood a woman with a
bonnet with great white wings on. the
sides, holding in her hand H. moist
compress. The room was plain and
neat, with clean white walls: On q
table, covered with a great napkin of
yellow linen, l noted a number oi
strange objects-rows of lite Walls,
md u brown earthen jar filled with
bits OF ice. Through the muslin cur.
tains, which be!lied out from the win.
dow in the balmy air, could see a
patch OF blue sky and the tops o
green trees bending lightly in the
breeze. Where was1? 1tseemed like a
long dream that l had; my head
felt empty, my limbs ached. and
could not think.
The man gently lifted my head, and
gave mo few drops OF some liquid,
which swallowed with avidity.
"Well, Mr.. Furnlss," he said, chow
do you feel?'
"Eh, WHAT" CRIED "Where am
II"
"You ore in my house, my dear sir,
and we shall take good care of you.
Now" he added, replacing my head
on the pillow, 'be quiet and 90 to
Sleep"
1gazed at him for long time, and
all at once I recognized Doctor
Bertram, the celebrated specialist in
insanity. A shudder passed through
my frame. Why was I in Doctor Ber-
TRAINS hospital, instead of in my
home, near Phoenix Pork, with my
books, my herbs, and my microscopes
around me? His hospital was for
mad people!--and that Sister of Char
ity, those Walls, that bowl OF ice-my
God, l must be mad! But why?-
how?
"How long have I been here'" !
asked, after time.
"For four weeks, Mr.. Furniss. But
you must be quiet and sleep. Now do
not try to talk"
For q month! Was it possible?
What had happened? But even rs l
asked myself these questions, little
by little l went off to sleep, and !
saw, in q billowy meadow, a
road covered with blood and
bOrdered on either side with mon
strous microscopes shaped like trees,
IL road on which two little girls played
at pitch and catch with severed
head, while Doctor Bertram, comic
oily bonneted with q religious cap,
rode astride OF dead body, which
reared, and pranced, and kicked till
he could scarce keep his seat.
The next morning was better; and
day by day improved, though that
horrible nightmare came to ME each
night. But it grew less and less dis
tinct, and in q few weeks it almost
censed to trouble me.
Ono evening the doctor, whom
had not seen during the day, seated
himself near the bed.
"Wcll," said no, feeling my pulse,
'you arc doing famously. I'll have
you out, as good as now, in \ few days.
But you've had close shave. It has
been one OF the prettiest cases OF cere-
bral congestion | ever handled-a
beautiful case. Why, it's a wonder
you are alive now. Tell me, how Is
your memory; can you remember
what happened before you were
brought here2'
ell don't know, can not think.
have passed through something fear
full. What it Is, l can not say. From
the faint Ql'mmer of recollection that
comes to me, have the sensation OF
having been Northumberland! Oh, it
is frightful. My brain is weak yet.
Then. the child, pretty golden-hair-
ed child-rolling on the floor"
"Come, come, this will never do. "
said the doctor. "You can tell ME oil
about it in the morn"
"No, now: DOCTOR" I cried. ut is
coming back to me. Yes, I have it
now"
Here Is an exact transcript of my
recital as / told it to DR.. Bertram
and, later, to the magistrate.
You know my passion for natural
history. Well, scarcely " week passes
that l do not go into the country
botanizing. That day l went to
Glancevin, where, as you know, the
marshy meadows are rich in curious
plants. infusOria, and diatOms. Twas
returning, and was almost in Dublin
with my box full of rare specimens, on
which expected to make report
that would astonish the Botanical
Society, when saw u little girl, Ger
tainly not more than five or six years
old, who was all alone, crying as il
her little heart would break. l ap-
preached her, but at sight of me she
redoubled her cries. could see that
the little one was lost, and that she
did not know where to go. SO l spoke
to her kindly, and, by dint OF promis-
ing her unlimited bonbons. got her to
tell me that her name was Lizzie, and
that she lived near Beresford Place III
Lower Abbey Street. 1took her hand,
and we soon started of, talking to-
gether like old friends. She was a
beautiful child, fresh and rosy, with
great, candid eyes and fair hair which
WIS cut short over her eyes and fell
in Colicn rjnplets about hor shoulders.
She trotted bravely along, her soft,
little hand holding my great, ruddy
paw confidingly. As we walked she
told me remarkable tales. in which
figured q big, black horse, u little
knife, doll, and a number OF people